or wolves in the frozen sunlight at
the forest’s edge gnawing on
ernst’s bones,
or the delicate lattice of frost
spun across the flowers that
grow in the shadows there
one war
and then the next
time set aside to bury the bodies
to bulldoze them into
gasoline-soaked piles
and the children waving flags die
just as easily as their mothers
and fathers,
and it’s important to remember
in this age of enlightenment and greed
that someone, somewhere, felt
these deaths were absolutely
necessary for a brighter future
felt that the book sales would justify
them or that box office success
was guaranteed,
and so i kissed her breasts in the
silence of some grey tuesday morning
while she made small sounds
against the frozen air
ran my lips up the insides of
her thighs and
confused desire with truth
felt the warmth of hope replaced
by the fear of loss
knew right then how fucked up
this would all be in the end
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